


Then From No Fall

by heartstone



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: After the Completion of Utumno, But Before the Elves, In more ways than one, M/M, Mairon Is Frustrated, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Set Around When Maiar Leave to Join Melkor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartstone/pseuds/heartstone
Summary: Where it not for his black raiment, Melkor would have had some difficulty discerning where the Maia’s flames ended and where those from the blazing fireplace began, their borders ever-shifting, twisting and lashing like the strike of many great snakes with scarlet, venomous fangs. Melkor stood watching him for a moment, watched the serpentine fire writhe and coil from the hearth and from, He guessed, Mairon’s eyes, which themselves exuded the vigor of many an inferno. Every so often these two malefic irises sparked and charred into the black marble of the mantel, melting the stone with a screech of sudden, intense heat, burning craters into the craftsmanship and leaving nothing but burnt lime dust and thin, wispy tendrils of gas.***Melkor helps alleviate some of Mairon's frustrations.





	Then From No Fall

He is by the fireside when He walks in.

Where it not for his black raiment, Melkor would have had some difficulty discerning where the Maia’s flames ended and where those from the blazing fireplace began, their borders ever-shifting, twisting and lashing like the strike of many great snakes with scarlet, venomous fangs. Melkor stood watching him for a moment, watched the serpentine fire writhe and coil from the hearth and from, He guessed, Mairon’s eyes, which themselves exuded the vigor of many an inferno. Every so often these two malefic irises sparked and charred into the black marble of the mantel, melting the stone with a screech of sudden, intense heat, burning craters into the craftsmanship and leaving nothing but burnt lime dust and thin, wispy tendrils of gas.

He was angry, that much was certain. Nevertheless, burning holes into the mantel only made Mairon more angry; with a livid growl that raised even the fine hairs on Melkor’s neck he slammed his fist onto the once faultlessly carved corbel, upset that he had ruined what was- of course- his own work.

His back was still turned to Him, facing the fireplace, when Melkor allowed His presence to be known with a frigid draught that fluttered Mairon’s heavy damask skirts. He, in all his stubbornness, did not turn and rather stiffened at Melkor’s paltry attempt at literally cooling him down. The fire in the hearth dimmed and danced over the charred logs but the brilliance emanating from the Maia did not dampen- rather it sharpened like the tip of a spear.

The Mightiest of the Valar, Sower of Discord, and the Dark King was resigned to His fate at the moment, however, and if that meant being subject to His beloved’s wrath then so be it. Without hesitance He walked up to the fireplace in three long strides and wrapped His arms around the smouldering Maia from behind, hugging his slight, scorching frame up to His chest. It was a wonder his clothes did not spontaneously combust from the scalding rage that boiled under his flesh.

Mairon stayed tensed and inert for only a few seconds, then quickly yielded to His embrace, relaxing in His firm but tender hold and letting out a trembling sigh of resignation. He leaned fully against the span of Melkor’s chest, relishing the feel of hard muscle and smooth skin: a cool and powerful marble that he could not burn. The smell of petrichor that always lingered around Melkor soothed Mairon’s fury to moderate aggravation- no small feat.

Melkor’s chin rested on his shoulder and Mairon turned his face to Him as He stooped down to hold him even closer, watched as Melkor pouted His lips to send His freezing breath into one of the still-deepening craters in the marble mantel which continued to billow smoke and push out quicklime powder. His breath was cold enough to solidify the gas, which fell to the floor as chunks of dry ice that immediately let off a dense white mist with a mild piquant smell.

Mairon snuggled back against Him even more, turned around in His enveloping hug to wrap his arms around Melkor’s neck and rest his face against His chest. Melkor pushed aside the gossamer veil that the Maia was accustomed to wearing, tucking it behind his jeweled ear and its point before pressing a kiss to his temple. Mairon sighed again, sending ripples of warmth that pleasantly tingled over the Vala's skin- despite being covered in several layers of fabric Melkor could not stop the trembling passion that shivered His Fána and sent deeper tremors into His Fëa. Especially since He knew very well how. . . _prurient_ Mairon could get when frustrated.

Mairon squeezed Him a little tighter, voice muffled in the velvet of His robes:

“They have no right to treat thee and thine apostles as such, with such brazen lack of respect. How can they preach such things as liberty of choice and harmony with such evident offenses to those very ideals?”

Melkor, His head resting now on the crown of Mairon’s head, which was just at the level of His chin, looked down at him with slight surprise- it wasn’t as if either of them had much faith in the ways of the Valar and Mairon knew firsthand how they treated those of the Maiar who defected to Him. The thought that the Valar would sanctify the choice of what was, essentially, crowds of their servant population fleeing to join the Enemy seemed to Melkor groundless.

But Mairon was not ignorant. What Mairon was feeling then, He realized- for He knew that emptiness, that bitter stinging- was a loss of hope. A loss of hope and the loss of thousands of newly rebelling Maiar that were caught in the act of escaping Manwë’s rule in Valinor to Melkor’s rule in Utumno. He hugged Mairon tighter.

“It is as thou said once, not so long ago, my love; they are sanctimonious pretenders, turning a blind eye to the turmoil within their own borders, to the hordes of dissatisfied and underappreciated Maiar. It is an utter shame their loss, but it will serve us well in the end. Those spirits whom were unsure of their dissent will be forced to resolve their inner conflicts- those spirits whom were sure of their dissent will, due to further oppression, only become more resentful and resolute in their choice.”

For a time there was only the faint hissing of the final chemical reactions in Mairon’s melted marble and Melkor’s solidified carbon dioxide, dispersed with the crackles from the dying remains of the fire that burned the wood so hot so quickly all that was left was fine black ash. Melkor let him contemplate- Mairon was naturally gifted in strategy and would see the wisdom of His words. But Melkor knew it would not completely lift his dejected mood, for Mairon was often needlessly harsh on himself when he perceived that he had failed in some way.

Mairon pushed back a bit, forcing Melkor to remove His chin from its rest on the top of his head, pillowed by the thick curls of his hair and the thin silk of his diaphanous veil. He canted his neck to look up at Melkor and the Dark Vala could not contain the adoration, the all-consuming ardor which flooded His jet eyes; Mairon was incredibly beautiful, so much so that atimes He thought the word _beautiful_ inadequate.

And to see a similar expression in the firestorm of His Maia’s eyes. . . Melkor was overcome with an intense frisson that settled low and impossibly hot. Just like the unstoppable flickering of a flame Mairon’s entire disposition had shifted towards sensuality, yet Melkor’s eyes still held the imprint of light where the flame was just moments ago, where it had seared itself into His retinas- He would not ignore Mairon’s hopelessness like he clearly wanted Him too.

“Thou art boundlessly sly,” Mairon murmured, attempting to pretend he was no longer bothered.

Melkor delicately kissed the tip of his nose, which was decorated with a gold ring studded with rubies, not to mention the little freckles that dusted his bridge and his cheeks, those which Mairon so often thought of as imperfections but which Melkor thought incredibly charming. He hummed softly in thought.

“I am no longer offended by my brother’s pitious attempt at subduing the Maiar into mindless servitude, nor His slanderous propaganda. Those Maiar who were caught and have fallen, once they rise triumphant and have settled on their own conclusions, they will only be more glorious and more dread then from no fall.”

He paused for a moment, gazing deeply into Mairon’s eyes, those of a viper. He searched deep, then continued softly and gently: “Thou know’st thou art not to blame- it wast not thou who led them.”

Mairon’s eyes betrayed, like Melkor had guessed, that he was still furious: but Melkor also knew that nothing but time could heal his hopelessness and that only vengeance on the Valar could heal his perceived failure at the loss of the Maiar. Mairon ducked his head and pressed it against His chest again, and again he spoke, softly and brimming with a frustrated, angry _need._

“Make me forget for a time, _Master.”_

Unbeknownst to Melkor, Mairon grinned into His robes, showing his fangs to the velvet. Melkor gasped softly. Mairon had only just started calling Him Master, for two very distinct purposes. One such purpose was to show honour to Melkor in front of the newly assimilating Maiar, which was mostly for appearances- they had thought it wise to keep their more intimate relations a secret, if only for a little while. And so Mairon remained in the eyes of Utumno’s denizens the highly esteemed Lieutenant of Melkor, while in truth he was more of an equal. Thus, “Master,” had instead become an endearment that only the pair were aware of.

Unfortunately, it had another purpose that Mairon exploited often. He felt a blush creep onto His pale skin like blood soaking into snow, mentally (half-heartedly) cursing Mairon and his damn ‘respondent conditioning.’ The way he said it in that husky lilt, barely containing his desire in a haze of playful sweetness and a low growl of fervent lasciviousness- it left little guesswork as to which diversion Mairon had in mind.

His eyes fell on the mantel again, and considering the pockmarks in the marble the Dark Vala trembled; whilst angry and so inclined towards lust, the Maia would often end up completely igniting the bed at his climax and by the time he settled, satiated in Melkor’s arms, they would be sitting on naught but ashes. It happened often as of late, and Melkor knew it was because of the new responsibilities he had taken up as Lieutenant of a growing empire and the sudden lack of time they had together.

Melkor removed His hand from his waist and cupped his jaw, tilting his head up, watching the curls of his hair undulate and glisten like copper in the light of Mairon’s eyes as they fell from his shoulder. The veil also fell, but was like a shadow around them. Melkor turned His eyes to his face; flesh the colour and smoothness of polished bronze dusted with gold, his high, regal cheekbones and pursed, alluringly crimson lips that drew His own closer. . .

Suddenly Mairon crushed himself against Him, hands gripping Melkor’s long raven-dark locks with a sharp tug to pull Him down to his lips, which he devoured. He stood barefoot, on his toes, leaning against Him with all his weight- Mairon was slight in build and Melkor, broad-shouldered and imposing, did not waver, even when the Maia nipped His lower lip and smoothed over its sting with his tongue. Melkor moaned against his lips, eagerly kissing back in equal ardor, nipping and bruising, pressing intently to the sensual bow of his top lip.

Melkor had enough. He picked him up, somewhat awkwardly owing to the heavy damask skirts Mairon was wearing, which he pulled up with a raspy growl to expose his shapely legs adorned with jeweled anklets, golden rings, and a filigree piece which alluringly stayed up at his thigh like a garter. Mairon broke his searing kiss and wrapped his arms around Melkor’s shoulders, kissing His neck, then wrapped his legs around His hips, grinding into Him shamelessly as he was carried to the doomed four-post bed. Melkor pulled him off at the foot and threw him onto the mattress roughly like He knew the Maia enjoyed.

Mairon gasped with surprise and lay there panting and flushed, sinking deep into the cushions. He pushed himself up enough to look Melkor in His eyes, showing that his own were threatening to spark again. His rouge was smeared from their sloppy kiss and his veil pulled to one side: an illustration of temptation. His skirts were still rode up to his hips, enough that Melkor could see he wasn’t wearing anything under them and that he was most pleased with the _distraction._ Mairon’s eyes flared dangerously, lips curving cruelly as he further spread his legs- already his veil was burning and shrivelling from heat and the silks under him curled as they melted.

Later, when Melkor found Himself lying on nothing but ash and soot, He wondered how He would explain the need for another bed. But Mairon curled in closer to Him, content, and He found He didn’t care.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this was actually inspired by lines 11 to 17 from Paradise Lost, Book II by John Milton. The fanfiction kind of turned out to focus on other things, however, so I didn't really feel like it should be included in the beginning. But, because I did incorporate line 16 into my work and use it in the title, I wanted to include it here in the notes for credit. The lines themselves are said by Satan:  
> "Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven!  
> For, since no deep within her gulf can hold  
> Immortal vigor, though oppressed and fallen,  
> I give not Heaven for lost; from this descent  
> Celestial virtues rising will appear  
> More glorious and more dread then from no fall,  
> And trust themselves to fear no second fate. . ."  
> ***


End file.
